


White Flowers

by YaGirlClutchie



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: M/M, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 03:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaGirlClutchie/pseuds/YaGirlClutchie
Summary: A case of white flowers and unrequited love.





	White Flowers

You’re writing lines about me; romantic poetry/Your girl’s got red in her cheeks, ‘cause we’re something she can’t see/And I try to refrain but you’re stuck in my brain/And all I do is cry and complain because second’s not the same

Ten years. Ten years of friendship, of jokes, of late night conversations. 

Ten years of feeling complete only when he was with John. Ten years of teasing about being soulmates before pulling away. A few drunken nights that could have ended differently. One night of staying in the same hotel room and sharing a bed, lying back to back even though every inch of his skin was crying out for him to roll over and press his body against John’s. Smiity was desperate for John, but knew there was no way the other man could care for him. He had tried to fill the void, but his girlfriend, Cara, did nothing to help.

He’d forgotten to do something simple: he’d forgotten to get bananas when he went to the store. Now she was on the rampage again, telling him how worthless he was and how lucky he was she stayed with him.

“Who else would wanna be with you? With your shitty jokes and your crazy schedule?” Smiity had decided to stand up for himself this once, but just as he began to speak, Cara took the words right out of his mouth.

“John?” Cara began to laugh. “John couldn’t care about you. He’s too funny and cool; he’d never love someone as pathetic as you.”

Smiity had crumpled to the floor with that statement, sobbing into his arms as Cara railed at him. He tried to block out the words of “pathetic”, “useless”; the phrases of “who would want you” and “I don’t know why I stay” rang in his head. He looked up to see Cara staring at him.

“I’m gonna leave you, and then you’ll be alone. I’m done with your shit Smiity.” She turned to walk away before Smiity grabbed her arm.

“Please don’t leave me. You’re right; I’m pathetic, and no one else would want me. Don’t abandon me, please.”

Later that night, as his arms wrapped around Cara, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Not so much that he couldn’t bear it, but it was a strange feeling as if he had butterflies in this chest that was slamming against his rib cage trying to free themselves. The next morning, he choked out his first flowers: purple and white blooms, their stems covered with blood.

6 Months Later

Kryoz accepted the skype call from Smiity and then reached over to grab his drink from the bedside table. When he returned, he felt all the breath leave his lungs. Smiity looked horrible; bags under his eyes, skin so pale it was almost translucent, a blanket was thrown over shoulders that still shook with chills.

“Dude, are you sick? You look like shit.”

Smiity gave him a smile too small to be reassuring. “Yeah, I am. Been dealing with this for a while.” 

John saw Smiity begin to cough but was shocked to see purple and white flowers start to emerge from his friend’s mouth, spilling over the sleeve Smiity tried to cover his mouth with and landing on the desk. Smiity ran off screen, leaving John to stare at the flowers.

The purple ones were more of a lavender color with orange stems inside. He pulled up Google and went through several pictures before he found a match. The flowers were crocus; meaning “Abuse not”, Cheerfulness, and Exuberance. The other flowers he knew were lily-of-the-valley (thanks to high school botany for teaching him something). The meaning behind them was “return to happiness” and “you have made my life complete”. John didn’t have much time to wonder who the flowers were for before Smiity returned, sitting down in the chair and leaning on the headrest behind him.

“Smiity. Tell me. Who are the flowers for?” The only response he got was for Smiity to wipe the flowers off the desk onto the floor and pull the blanket closer to him before resting his head on the desk.

“Is it Cara?” Smiity sniffed and looked like he could cry. “Damn. I’m so sorry. I thought things were ok between you.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it John, not right now. I want to talk and play games with you,” Smiity replied as he looked into the camera. 

John smiled back at his friend. “Sure, just let me run to the bathroom, and I’ll be right back. Pick something to play OTHER than golf.”

He walked casually until he knew he was out of range of the camera, then collapsed against the wall, out of breath and heartbreaking. The man he loved was so in love with his girlfriend that he had gotten hanahaki for her, leaving John with an ache in his chest and his own flowers blooming. He doubled over and began to cough, red and white flowers mixing with blood as they spilt onto the floor.

“Damn it, John,” he said to himself. “You had to fall for him, didn’t you?”

I’m trying not to let it show, that I don’t want to let this go/Is there somewhere you can meet me?

Two weeks later, John and Smiity had barely talked. Thinking that he was pulling Smiity from his girlfriend and making the other’s hanahaki worse, John had decided to keep his distance. Even if he were choking up flowers for Smiity, he wouldn’t think of keeping the man he loved from happiness.

John had looked up the meaning of his own flowers. The red flowers were red catchfly, meaning youthful love, while the white flowers were honeysuckle, which stood for devoted love. He would never have chosen those words to define Smiity, but whatever god had created this disease wasn’t wrong. Smiity was childlike in the way he cared for others and was always devoted to his friends, family, and girlfriend.

He chose not to tell Smiity about the flowers inside his own chest, not wanting to complicate his love’s life anymore. He had resolved to have a surgery to have them removed at the last second, wanting to love Smiity as long as possible. Once he had the surgery, they could still be friends, but the love that had controlled his life would be gone.

Inside his apartment, Smiity was fading fast. He had been suffering from his flowers for a long time, having chosen to die before he would remove John from his heart. But as John began to pull away the attacks became more frequent, the flowers choking him as he slept. He hid his disease from Cara, pretending that the coughs were from a cold that he couldn’t get rid of. Then one day, he couldn’t hide anymore.

The bathroom door flew open as Smiity hunched over the sink, choking up a stream of flowers and blood that seemed endless. He looked up to see Cara standing behind him; her brown eyes hard and unfeeling behind her glasses.

“Seriously? You’re so in love with him you’ve got flowers?”

She began to laugh, leaning against the wall as Smiity turned back to the sink to release more flowers. If he was honest, there was too much blood at this point. His time was coming to an end.

“Fuck this. I’m out. Enjoy choking to death,” Cara said, disgust on her face. She walked out of the bathroom and went straight into the bedroom. He could hear her grabbing a suitcase and pulling clothes off hangers.

Smiity tried to go to her, to tell her he was sorry, that he knew she was the only one who cared about him. But as he started to walk towards her, he vision begin to blur, and all the strength went out of his legs. He had to lean against the wall for support before sliding down to sit in the hallway with his head on his knees. He was barely aware of Cara walking past him, the key dropping to the floor beside him, and the front door closing.

Smiity let out a sob that became a choked gasp. Now he wasn’t just without John; he didn’t have anyone.

Two days later, Smiity knew he had to leave the house. He wanted to feel the sun on his face and breathe in whatever fresh air he could. His body was breaking down. He didn’t have much longer.

The choking fits that brought up a kaleidoscope of purple, white, and red had longer distance between them, but they were more prolonged and more brutal. A few times the attacks had been so severe, he felt himself losing oxygen before he blacked out, thinking that this was the last time. But each time, he awoke to a mess on the floor or in his bed and the heartbreaking loneliness that shocked his heart with every thought of John.

Slowly, he walked to the park near his apartment, taking in all of the sights and sounds of people living, breathing, loving each other. He found a bench near the lake and watched children run across the wooden footbridge as they chased each other. There, sitting on a bench on a Thursday afternoon, he decided to call John.

“I know he doesn’t love me, but I can’t die without telling him how I feel,” he said to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked on John’s name and pressed the phone to his ear, praying the John would answer.

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“John… it’s really good to hear your voice. I thought you hated me,” Smiity said, swallowing down the flowers that had bloomed in his throat when John answered. He heard John suck in a breath before he replied.

“No man, I could never hate you. I thought that being close to you was keeping Cara away and making your hanahaki worse. So I decided to keep my distance so you could get better. Want you to be ok.”

Smiity felt the tears pour down his face as he listened to John. He knew he had made the right decision by calling; he wasn’t going to let John think that he died because of loving Cara. He took a deep breath to speak but began to cough, his body shaking and blood staining his shirt. The flowers were getting bigger now, gathering in his throat and trying to restrict his voice. He swallowed them down, resolved to tell John the truth if it was the last thing he did.

“John, listen. The flowers aren’t for Cara. She abused me and made me feel worthless. I could never love her enough for this to happen.”

“That bit-” John began to interrupt, but Smiity stopped him.

“Please let me finish. I don’t know how much longer I have. The flowers… They’re for you. I love you, John.” The effort of saying those words and holding back the flowers in his lungs proved to be too much for Smiity’s weakened body, and he collapsed off the park bench. He heard John yelling through the phone as he blacked out, thinking hearing John call his name was the best thing he had ever heard.

He soon woke to find himself standing in a room. As he looked around, he remembered where he was. This was the hotel room where he had first realized he was in love with John. He turned the corner into the living room to see himself and John laying on a couch, laughing and talking like they always had, both drunk enough to be silly but not enough to forget what happened between them.

“Dude, it’s like you’re my fucking soulmate,” John said as he straightened from being doubled over with laughter. Smiity saw his past self laugh at the words before leaning against John’s shoulder, failing to stay upright and landing in John’s lap. He remembered how his heart had beat at a speed he had never felt before; that’s the moment he had let himself think about a future with John for the first time.

He would always blame the alcohol for what happened next. “Well if I’m your soulmate, I guess I’ll have to kiss you!” He watched himself lean up for a kiss, trying to play it off as a joke. Then, John’s arms wrapped around his body, pulling them together. They were so close, their lips almost touching, before Kryoz realized what he was doing and let Smiity go.

The boys laughed it off and headed to bed. They shared a king sized bed on this trip, as it was the only room available. Smiity lay with his back to John, fighting the urge to turn around and wrap his arms around the body of the boy he loved.

I’m sorry, but I fell in love tonight/I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight/You’re looking like you fell in love tonight/Could we pretend that we’re in love?

As he observed the scene, remembering how he felt that night, the real Smiity felt himself being pulled away as if a hand was dragging him back to the real world. Everything went black.

Then there was noise, yelling and alarms going off. Light, a bright white light above him as he opened his eyes. A sting in his arm and a mask over his face. He tried to move but felt hands on his arms.

“Stay still sir! We’re trying to help!” Smiity saw a nurse standing above him and felt her hand on his shoulder. He looked around to see a couple of doctors looking at the flowers and blood on his shirt and a nurse putting an IV into his arm. He looked over to the edge of the room to see…

“John,” he whispered, the name falling from his lips to barely be heard through the oxygen mask. The nurse saw where he was looking.

“He’s the one who called 911 and told them to bring you to the hospital. He was here when you arrived. Wait… is he the one the flowers are for?”

He didn’t have time to respond before John was at his side. He felt the rings against his own fingers as John’s hand shook inside his. The doctors and nurses around him seemed to fade away; he didn’t feel anything other than the warmth of John leaning next to him. He looked into John’s eyes to see tears gathering there.

Smiity tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come as the flowers continued to push against his throat. His lungs seemed to burn with the flowers pressing within them; he needed to cough, or he felt he was going to die. Leaning up, he felt the nurse pull the mask off his face as he choked the flowers out, his raw throat causing blood to spray against the towel she held under him. He was aware of John’s arm and body holding him up as he choked, the fingers on his arm rubbing comforting circles into his shaking body. As the attack finished, the nurse wiped the blood and leftover petals from his mouth and leaned him back. He felt himself leaning against part of John’s chest, arms surrounding him with warmth.

They sat there in silence for a few moments as Smiity’s body shook, the effort needed to cough almost more than his body had to give. He subconsciously leaned his head on John’s shoulder.

“If this is how I’m going to die, I might as well imagine what it would feel like to-”

“Smiity,” John interrupted his thoughts. “I need to tell you something.” He craned his neck to look at John and saw the face he loved covered with tears.

“I love you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

White sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth, and the nightlife/You told me this is right where it begins

John had almost dropped the phone at the end of Smiity’s confession, especially as he felt the freedom in his chest. His desk was littered with flowers, and his shirt was stained with blood, but he didn’t feel the petals threatening to choke him. He took a deep breath and prepared to tell Smiity how he felt, but he heard a groan and a *thunk* that told him Smiity had dropped the phone.

“Smiity?!?! Smiity ANSWER ME!!!” he cried, rushing to grab his car keys. “Smiity hold on; I’m calling 911. Hold on!”

He hung up the call and pulled up Smiity’s location, the friends having shared access to each other during a convention years ago. The phone showed the park near Smiity’s apartment. John jumped into his car and dialled 911.

“911 whats the location of your emergency?

“The park next to Cross Creek Apartments. Please… he’s dying from hanahaki! He needs help!”

“Ok, sir. I’m dispatching an ambulance. Who is he and who is the hanahaki for?”

“His name is Smiity, and the hanahaki is… it’s for me. I just found out when he called me before he collapsed,” John felt himself begin to panic as he drove. “I need to get to him!!”

“Sir! You have to calm down. Drive to Fleur Hospital,” the 911 operated commanded. “That’s the nearest trauma center for hanahaki so that’s where they will take him. But you have to be calm and drive carefully. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah I can. Thank you.”

The hospital was ten minutes away. John arrived in the emergency parking lot just before an ambulance drove up to the entrance. He got out of his car and ran up to the vehicle just in time to see a pale man with dark brown hair being pulled out on a gurney before doctors ran out and pushed him inside. One of the paramedics saw John and yelled for him.

“HEY! You the guy who called 911? Get in there!”

John followed the gurney to a room, where he was told to wait outside while the medical staff worked on his friend. He twisted his shirt in his hands and watched Smiity’s face, hoping and praying for signs of life. The blood coating Smiity’s chest was littered with flower and stem pieces; the doctors were studying it kept saying “Stage 5” and “not much longer.” Then, he saw Smiity move, a nurse moving to hold him still, and then he connected with his love’s deep brown eyes.

He was at Smiity’s side before the nurse could call for him, wrapping his fingers around Smiity’s and running his other hand through the brown hair. Suddenly, Smiity jerked and tried to sit up. John quickly scooted onto the bed to support him as Smiity coughed up flowers. As the attack finished and Smiity was laying in his arms, he called his name.

“Smiity, I love you. Please, please don’t leave me.”

John saw Smiity’s eyes widen; he felt a feeble grasping as Smitty tried to grab his arms. Another cough, a few petals and blood, and then a deep, shaky breath.

’Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings/And you clutched my brain and eased my ailing

“How… how is this possible?” Smiity whispered. “You love me?”

“Of course I do. How could I not?”

“Cara… Cara said you could never care for me. She had me convinced.”

John felt his anger burning for the woman who had hurt Smiity. “She was wrong, and I can prove it.” He fished into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a few of the mostly intact petals he had coughed up. “These are the petals I’ve been coughing up for you for the last two weeks. I thought that you were so in love with Cara that we couldn’t be together. Obviously, I was wrong.”

The nurse walked over to them. “Ok guys, I know the flowers are gone, but Smiity you still have a lot of lung and throat damage. We need to put the oxygen mask back on so you can get some good air in your system before we run some tests.”

She moved to put the mask on but John stopped her. “Please, one more second.” He leaned down over Smiity and placed a light kiss on his lips. As he leaned back, he saw tears running down Smiity’s cheeks.

“What’s wrong? Was that ok?”

“It was perfect,” Smitty whispered. “I’m just afraid I’ll fall asleep, and this will have been a dream, and you’ll be gone.”

John scooted further into the bed and leaned Smiity back against his chest, wrapping his arms around the frail body.

“Do you feel my heart beating? That means I’m real. This isn’t a dream. I love you and will love you forever. Now rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He felt Smiity hum in contentment as he snuggled against his chest, breath evening out seconds later. The nurse placed the mask over his love’s mouth before walking away and shutting the curtain behind her.

John took a deep breath and placed his hand on Smiity’s chest. He felt a heartbeat and pressure against his palm as Smiity breathed.

“Yeah, you’re real too.”


End file.
